A Mother’s Sacrifice

by Gemma Metcalfe

  ‘What a cracking idea. I always knew I liked you,’ says Ron.

  ‘James?’ I force his eyes to meet mine, ignoring everybody else around us.

  ‘Sure. Open it,’ he says casually enough. ‘It is for you after all.’

  As I loosen the bow, the feel of the ribbon between my fingers causes my skin to burn. Nothing feels normal any more, nothing is how it should be. All eyes are now on me, their stares drilling into my skull. I pull away the wrapping paper, allow it to fall down to the floor. ‘It’s something from Pandora,’ I say.

  ‘Open it then,’ replies James, a little too brightly.

  I open the lid on the box, blink down at the small silver charm embedded in the centre. ‘I, erm…’

  ‘Do you like it?’

  I look again, see it is in the shape of a house, a gold, love-heart clasp dangling off it. The word ‘family’ has been engraved into the front. Lifting it out of its casing, I roll it over between my fingers, catching sight of the side of the house. Three childish stick men are engraved into the silver: a woman, man and child. ‘But I don’t even have the bracelet,’ I say, confused.

  ‘Well, obviously, I was going to buy you that too then I forgot about it.’ James looks down at his feet.

  ‘But didn’t you think to buy it at the same time, knowing I didn’t have one?’

  He shakes his head. ‘I just saw it and thought it would be nice. It was ages ago. We’ll get you the bracelet tomorrow. It’ll be half-price in the sales.’ He tries out a laugh but it falls to the floor.

  ‘Well, I’m not being rude but at this rate I’ll be toasting my son’s graduation, never mind his conception.’ Ron stumbles over towards the still-open cupboard. ‘Want a job doing, do it yourself.’

  ‘Look, I’m really not feeling very well,’ I admit as another wave of heat burns my skin. ‘I’m sorry but I think we’ll have to celebrate some other time.’

  ‘I think that’s for the best,’ says James. ‘Ron, take the bottle with you. Call it an early christening present.’

  Ten minutes later, I lean against the hallway wall as our guests leave one by one. Annette has a face like thunder but Ron seems delighted with his free bottle of champagne. He clutches it tightly to his chest like he’s nursing a newborn baby. ‘I’m sorry about this,’ says James, his voice floating just out of reach. ‘I think the tablets have really knocked her sideways. We’ll catch up in the New Year.’

  Helen, like me, appears grateful that the day has been cut short. She kisses me on the cheek as she passes. ‘If you need to talk, call me.’ She slips a folded-up piece of paper into my palm which I assume is her phone number.

  ‘Bye, honey, and thanks for earlier.’ Magda leans in and hugs me tightly before I have a chance to reply to Helen. I grip the tops of her arms for support, feeling like I’m going to faint at any moment. ‘Stay strong, Lou,’ she whispers into my ear. ‘This will all be a distant memory before you know it.’

  A moment later, I join James at the front door as everybody makes their way down the gravelled driveway. The cold temperature is almost a blessing, the fine rain feeling as good as a freezing shower on a summer’s day. The porch light illuminates the garden, its intense glare reflecting back a bright array of colour as the raindrops rest themselves on the roof of our car and the iron fence. ‘Bye,’ I shout into the night sky, relieved as everybody starts to pile into Annette and Ron’s BMW.

  ‘Bye, sweetie,’ shouts Magda back at me, lifting up her arm to wave. The porch light catches hold of the silver charm bracelet around her wrist… its glare almost blinding.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Louisa

  Then

  I fucking hate Aiden!

  It’s now exactly one week since we kissed and ever since that night he’s treated me like I don’t even exist. I hate him; hate the way he flirts with Stacey when he thinks I’m not looking, hate how he mucks around with the lads, laughing and joking with them like he’s their pal. I’m going to run away! I’m going to run away and I’m never coming back to this stinking dump! I was stupid, stupid and pathetic to ever believe that somebody like him could be interested in somebody like me. I’m a loser, always have been and always will be.

  I pull my Groovy Chick quilt cover over my head, another fucking joke! How can I ever expect Aiden to take me seriously when I’m forced to have bedding like this? My pillowcase is already wet with tears, the smell of gunpowder wafting in through the window making me choke. Aiden is letting off fireworks with the kids, but I refuse to join in. Let’s see how he likes being ignored!

  It’s New Year’s Eve and I thought this New Year was full of promise. But it isn’t going to be, is it? It’s going to be shit just like all the rest.

  ‘How come you didn’t stay downstairs to watch the millennium in with us?’ The sound of Aiden’s voice causes my insides to tighten and for a moment I’m certain I’m hearing voices again. I keep my face buried in my pillowcase, not daring to look for fear he’ll disappear in a puff of smoke. I think he’s over by my door, his voice too far away for him to be inside my room. I can smell him, his scent rolling my stomach over and over until I think I’m going to explode. Who am I kidding? I don’t hate him. I love him. I love him so much!

  ‘Lou, Lou.’ His hand rests on the small of my back, my skin burning even though my pyjama top and the thick quilt are acting as a barrier between us. I didn’t hear him come over, he must have tiptoed or something.

  ‘What do you want, Aiden?’ My voice is muffled by the pillow. I want to turn around, but he can’t see I’ve been crying. Mum always used to say that if you gave a man an inch they’d take a mile. God, Aiden could take a whole kilometre and I wouldn’t mind. But no, I have to stay strong. Weak girls get shat all over, something else Mum used to say. ‘I don’t want to speak to you,’ I say, hoping to God he doesn’t take me at my word. ‘You’ve hardly spoken to me since Christmas Day. You’re always too busy mucking about with the boys or flirting with that slapper Stacey.’

  Aiden rubs my back, causing every muscle in my body to tense. ‘Louisa, look at me, please.’

  I shake my head, hating myself even more for not bothering to put on any make-up today. If I turn around with my eyes this puffy and my nose covered in snot he’s going to bolt right out of the door. ‘Just leave me, please.’

  ‘I’ll never leave you.’ His fingers are suddenly in my hair, his breath so close I can feel it.

  I turn to face him, peer up at him, sure I’m somehow dreaming. ‘Do you really mean that?’

  He blows out a small smile. ‘Isn’t that what I promised?’

  I heave myself up, bring my knees up against my chest. ‘But why should I believe you? That night we kissed…’ I swallow hard before continuing, ignoring Aiden’s hand gesture to keep my voice down. ‘That night you said I was special. But obviously you were talking shit. Do that kind of thing to all the young girls, do you?’

  A flash of anger sweeps across his face and I instantly know I have said the wrong thing. I flinch, now more convinced than ever that he’s about to leave me for good.

  ‘I had to keep my distance from you,’ he whispers, his gentle tone surprising. ‘Do you realise how bad this would look if it ever got out? The other staff, they’d never understand.’

  I nod. Of course I do. But I would never tell. Surely he understands that?

  He leans in further towards me, so close that I can smell the residue from the fireworks mixed with rainwater on his clothes. I regret not watching the fireworks with the others in the garden now. Last year Sandy never would have allowed us to have fireworks, and I can’t help but feel guilty that I’ve thrown Aiden’s special treat back in his face. I’ve got it all wrong, haven’t I? He wasn’t purposefully ignoring me. He was scared, scared I couldn’t be trusted!

  ‘And anyway,’ he continues, ‘it’s not like I bought the others a Christmas present, is it?’ His stare is so intense heat spreads across my skin, almost as if I’m bathing in stinging nettles
.

  ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

  ‘That’s all right.’ He closes his eyes, as if he’s about to cry. ‘It’s killed me to keep my distance, you have no idea. I’ve been so worried that you’re going to tell somebody about the night we kissed. I have to know I can trust you one hundred per cent. If I can’t trust you then I have to walk away from this and we’ll never see each other again.’ He stops for breath. ‘And that would really break my heart.’

  ‘Mine too.’ I reach out to him, grabbing hold of the sleeve of his jumper. The very idea that he could up and leave like everybody else causes a physical pain to push down on my chest, its weight crushing. ‘Please, Aiden, I need you, don’t leave me.’

  ‘So I can trust you? You’re grown-up enough to keep this to yourself and not blabbermouth to your mates like a stupid, immature girl?’

  I open my mouth to reply but my words are stuck. So I nod. I nod so much I make myself dizzy.

  ‘Good girl.’ His shoulders relax and he flicks his eyes over to the open doorway which is ajar. ‘I’m going to close the door, okay? So we can have some privacy.’

  A rush of excitement ripples through me. He’s going to kiss me again, I know it. I quickly wipe the snot away from my nose.

  He closes the door and makes his way back over to me, his eyes burning holes into mine. ‘I love you, Loulou. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Do you really?’ I manage to find my voice, even if it does stick to the roof of my mouth and come out in broken pieces. I can’t quite believe what he’s saying to me even though I really want to. How can a man like Aiden love me? He’s gorgeous, and clever and cool and everything I’m not. I’m ugly, a ‘no hoper’, a loser of the highest order.

  ‘I really do.’ He lowers himself back down onto my bed and lightly places the tips of his fingers on my collarbone, sending a painful bolt of excitement through me. ‘I want to show you just how much.’ He leans in, his mouth touching mine, the taste of salt on his lips like nothing I’ve ever tasted. His fingers slide down my cheek and neck until they are resting on my chest. I feel my body tense, my nipples harden.

  ‘I’m not sure…’

  ‘Shh, it’s okay,’ he whispers, continuing to run his fingers down my stomach, stopping just short of my knicker line. ‘I’ll be gentle, I promise.’

  I nod, knowing only that I have to do what he wants if I’m to have any chance of keeping him. He’s a man, and men have needs, don’t they? If I refuse I’ll only be showing myself up for the fourteen-year-old schoolgirl I am.

  ‘Good girl.’ He pushes me gently down into the mattress before standing up and pulling down his jeans, his penis straining against his boxer shorts. I don’t know where to look and my scalp tingles so badly I have to reach up and pull out a strand of hair even though he is watching me. ‘It’s okay to be nervous,’ he says. ‘Just try and relax.’ The smell of rubber suddenly hits the back of my throat, making me choke. ‘Do you know what one of these is?’ He holds up a condom, still compressed into its circular shape.

  Of course I know what it is. Me and Carl once stole some from Boots and filled them up with water. We stood in the car park above the precinct and threw them at passers-by, which was hilarious. But now I’m terrified, remembering the story Stacey told me last year about how one got stuck inside her cousin. Stacey said her cousin had to go to hospital and have it removed by a big Asian doctor with gigantic hands. ‘I, erm, we don’t need it,’ I say, knowing they are only used to prevent pregnancy. ‘I haven’t…’ I look away, bite my top lip, terrified Aiden will no longer want me if he knows the truth. ‘You know…’

  ‘Ahh, I see.’ A smile spreads the width of his face. ‘That’s good. These things ruin the fun anyway.’ He places it on my nightstand, next to my Boyzone lamp, which, by the way, I also hate because I love Nirvana and Nickelback. ‘You are sure about this, aren’t you?’ he asks me as he begins to pull down my leggings. ‘I’ll understand if you don’t feel grown-up enough.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ I say, desperate to show him I’m not a stupid, immature child like Stacey. ‘I’m your girlfriend, aren’t I?’

  ‘’Course,’ he whispers, before standing up to pull down his boxer shorts. ‘You’ll always be my special girl.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Louisa

  Now

  ‘Magda has a charm bracelet on!’ I round on James the second the door clicks shut, fury swimming like acid in my stomach.

  He shrugs. ‘So what?’

  ‘So it seems a little too convenient given the mysterious present.’

  ‘Eighty per cent of the female population wear charm bracelets – it’s the fashion. Just what are you trying to insinuate, Louisa?’ He rubs at his eyes which are red and swollen.

  The baby monitor springs into life, saving me from answering his question. ‘I have to see to Cory.’ I turn on my heel, feel James’s stare follow me up the flight of stairs, my calf muscles feeling like they’re being sliced open with a hot blade with each step I take. Just what am I trying to insinuate?

  ‘Hello, sleepyhead. Bet you’re glad you missed all the drama, aren’t you?’ I lift Cory out of his Moses basket with all the strength I can muster, his cry reducing to a nasally sniffle as I cradle him in my arms. He feels like a dead weight beneath me, my arm muscles weak, almost as if they’ve become disconnected from my shoulders. Fearing I might drop him, I ease myself down onto the edge of the bed, the thick mattress so welcoming I want to climb under the covers and sleep for ever. ‘Shhh, baby, Mummy’s here, okay?’ He tries his hardest to latch on to my nipple through my jumper, his mouth opening in expectation. ‘Hey, that’s not for you, cheeky monkey.’ My laugh quickly turns to tears as overwhelming guilt consumes me, its force so powerful a scream bubbles up in the pit of my stomach. Everything around me is slowly turning to dust, all of my hopes and dreams for motherhood falling through my fingers like sand. I am everything I feared I would be: useless, a burden, utterly deranged. ‘I’m a bad person, aren’t I?’ I whisper to Cory. ‘After everything Daddy has done for me, I repay him like this.’

  I heave myself up off the bed and gather every last bit of strength I can find. I have to apologise to James, salvage our fractured marriage.

  Before I do or say something which will make me lose him forever.

  The lounge is encased in semi-darkness as I enter. The curtains are drawn, the flames of the open fire flickering behind the heavy metal fireguard. James doesn’t acknowledge me, choosing instead to keep his eyes firmly glued on the television, the volume a fraction above a whisper. He is clutching a tumbler of whiskey in his hand, his grip so tight around the glass I fear it might shatter.

  ‘Anything decent on?’ I ask, still hovering in the doorway.

  He doesn’t reply.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry. What I said about Magda’s charm bracelet… well, I…’ My words disintegrate on my tongue. How can I even begin to justify my blatant accusation?

  ‘She’s your best friend, Lou. Not to mention that I’m your husband.’ His words are flat, emotionless.

  ‘I know. I don’t know what I was thinking. It just seemed so strange that the present was hidden in the cupboard…’

  ‘As opposed to what?’ He rounds on me, his eyes hard and hostile. ‘As opposed to it being left out where you could find it? I’m sorry for thinking presents should actually be stored away until Christmas Day.’

  ‘But you never gave it to me!’

  A heavy silence hangs between us. Cory’s milk scalds my wrist as I test its temperature, which is odd as it’s already been cooling on the kitchen counter for well over fifteen minutes. ‘Can you check that for me, please? It seems really hot.’ I hold out the bottle to James and for a moment I’m scared he’s going to refuse, but without warning he snatches it from me, tips it up and shakes it against his wrist. ‘It’s fine, lukewarm at best.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  He holds it out to me, still refusing to meet my eye. ‘I’m positive.
But why believe anything I say?’

  I sit in a state of panic, not wanting to give Cory boiling-hot milk which will blister his tongue, and yet at the same time not wanting to contradict what James is saying. Cory wriggles around in my arms, his face scrunching up as if he’s about to cry.

  ‘Give him the bottle, Louisa, for the love of God!’

  ‘I can’t,’ I admit, my voice shaking so much I’m terrified I’ll choke. ‘Just promise me that the charm was meant for me?’

  ‘So you’re not sorry at all then, are you? Because you still believe the bullshit you’re spouting is true. And just put the teat in his mouth now because it’s practically cold and you’re driving me insane!’ James is shouting now, his face blood-red as an angry vein pulsates in his neck.

  ‘No, I am sorry! I don’t know what’s wrong with me…’ I admit, before shoving the teat of the bottle into Cory’s open mouth and praying to God he doesn’t scream out in pain. He latches on to the bottle’s teat quickly and takes famished gulps, looking up at me as he does, his eyes searching out mine. Although I see myself in every fibre of his being, there is something mysterious hiding behind his eyes, something unfamiliar lurking in his soul.

  ‘There we go,’ says James sarcastically. ‘Nobody died.’

  We sit for a few moments in silence with only the quiet hum of the television for company, hostility causing the air to stagnate.

  ‘Do you think Annette is really pregnant?’ I say at last, taking a quick glance over to the other end of the sofa in order to witness James’s reaction.

  He laughs but it’s clear he doesn’t find it in the slightest bit funny. ‘This just gets better and better.’

  ‘But it just seemed so odd. How can you be almost ready to drop and not know? And her stomach didn’t even look like a bump, it was just…’

  ‘Just what?’

  ‘Just fat!’

  He slumps into the soft back of the sofa cushion and rubs his forehead. ‘Have you actually heard yourself? First I’m knocking off your best mate and buying her charms of happy families. Then, in the next breath, you’re accusing your other friend of making up a pregnancy. It was only a few days ago you were adamant the sperm donor had come back to kidnap Cory. You’re stark raving mad, do you know that?’